


I've Never

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: Origin (Web Series)
Genre: ALSO THIS FIC IS CANON FIGHT ME @ORIGIN WRITERS!!!!!!!!!!!!, F/M, i have a lot of Thoughts™ about this tragic boy and all of them are angsty, this is a shun fic don't let the character tags fool u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 03:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: “Okayokayshhhh,” Abigail slurs, and everyone settles again.Shun lets their tapering laughter pull him back into the room, the moment.Abigail continues, “Okay,Ihave never…” but something catches her attention and she lets out a small, excited gasp. She gets up, steps carefully over the minefield of empty bottles and sprawled out limbs. “I have never… danced on a spaceship”—the beat starts in, and she whips around—“until now.”Rey whoops, Lana groans, and Shun closes his fingers around the grip of his gun.---or,'shun has forgotten how to have a normal conversation'





	I've Never

**Author's Note:**

> [dives headfirst into this glorious, lonely dumpster] YEET
> 
> psa: this is both unedited _and_ garbage, much like the show itself

Shun stretches out a palm behind him, rests a forearm on top of his bent knee, loosely grasps the neck of a liquor-filled thermos. They shouldn’t be doing this—it’s reckless and irresponsible and _colossally_ stupid, but just… fuck it? He needs a break.

They all do.

Lana swipes the back of her hand across her mouth, cleans the alcohol from her lips. Shun never would’ve pegged her as the type to sing in the shower, but he’s been wrong about a lot recently. It’s refreshing, in a way, to be surprised by someone, discover all the quirks that make them unique. He hasn’t _really_ talked to another person in, well…

Come to think of it, this might be the first time in over ten years that he’s had a genuine conversation. It’s… strange to share personal details so freely. For so long it was second nature to wrap himself in layers and layers of half-truths, spin falsehoods with each pull of breath, bury a bullet in someone’s gut when they asked one too many questions.

Oyaji discouraged relationships, said they were a waste of time. (It was a lie; Shun understands that now. Oyaji simply didn’t want people to betray him for those they loved more.)

If he'd been stronger, he would've left the first time Oyaji broke his bones. But that's the thing about dogs: the obedient ones always heel, no matter what the master does.

“Your turn.” Abigail’s looking at Lana, an innocuous shade of mischief darkening her eyes.

Lana gives an uneasy laugh. “We can skip me.”

“Oh, c’monnn,” Rey chides, accent getting thicker with each passing gulp of liquor.

Lana flashes Shun a nervous glance, stares at her feet. “Okay, um… I, uh—” She shakes her head, presses her lips together. “I’ve never… gotten a tattoo?” Her voice ticks up near the end.

Abigail shoves her number-marked wrist in Lana’s face, giggles. “We’ve _all_ gotten tattoos, silly.”

Lana goes still. “Oh, I didn’t—” There’s a tremble in her fingers. “I—”

“She means the real kind,” Shun says smoothly. He takes a casual swig of the cheap vodka. Waits for the others to focus on him instead of her.

A beat of silence, then they take the bait and everyone save Lana is hounding him for details.  _Whaaat?!_ and  _No way!!_ and  _Let us see!_  Lana mouths something to him, but he can't make out what it is. Whatever. It’s not important.

Abigail sits up straighter and raps her palms against the floor like she’s playing a drum. “Let us see! Let us see!”

Shun gives a half-hearted shake of his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, how come?” This time it’s Henri.

“Because last I checked,” Shun says evenly, “stripping wasn’t part of the game.”

Rey bounces her eyebrows, looks at him through her lashes. “I’m sure we could... _amend_ the rule—” Her whole body jolts with a hiccup, and Abigail snorts.

The others dissolve into laughter, even Lana. Good—she had him worried there for a second.

“Alright,” Shun says, eager to move things along. “I’ve never been involved with a teacher.”

Rey motions for the bottle, and _huh_ ; that’s unexpected. She takes a greedy sip, forces the liquor down, nods feverishly as a chorus of _what!?_ s erupts. Rey only laughs. Shrugs. “She was hot, okay?”

Henri’s eyes go wide. “She?”

“Yes,” Rey says pointedly. “ _She_.”

Shun loses track of the conversation, gets blindsided by a rush of anxiety. This is stupid; what they’re doing is stupid. His reflexes are shot and the room is too open and they don’t have a comms device and the music is loud enough to drown out approaching footsteps and it’s a wonder the alien hasn’t ambushed them yet… or maybe it’s not; maybe the creature really _did_ die, maybe he’s carrying around a gun for nothing, maybe all of this has just been some horrible cryo-sleep nightmare, maybe—

“ _Okayokayshhhh_ ,” Abigail slurs, and everyone settles again.

Shun lets their tapering laughter pull him back into the room, the moment.

Abigail continues, “Okay,  _I_ have never…” but something catches her attention and she lets out a small, excited gasp. She gets up, steps carefully over the minefield of empty bottles and sprawled out limbs and discarded footwear. “I have never… danced on a spaceship”—the beat starts in, and she whips around—“until now.”

Rey whoops, Lana groans, and Shun closes his fingers around the grip of his gun.

Abigail wastes no time dragging a too-willing Henri into the fray, then she sets her sights on Shun. He teasingly lifts the handgun before she can get too close, and Abigail instantly backs off.

Lana’s targeted next, but her protest amounts to little more than an eye roll. “I _do not_ dance,” she states, which isn’t _nearly_ intimidating enough to discourage Henri from yanking her to her feet, grabbing her by the hips, and awkwardly helping her find the rhythm. It’s such a ridiculous thing, the way she’s getting tugged around like a marionette, but she’s smiling and laughing and _fuck—_

Regret steals into him swiftly, a sharp realization that it could be _his_ hands around her waist right now if he wasn't such a spoilsport. Maybe he could just— no. No, it’s good that he’s not— that they’re not— that they haven’t—

_Oh no._

The thought he’s been avoiding for two days violently wrests control, and Shun’s mouth goes dry. It’s dizzying, this aching need to know the weight of her body against his, the feel of her hands as they press down on his bare shoulders, what his name sounds like when she—  

Lana locks eyes with him, levels an accusatory finger, and mouths _fuck off_ slowly enough that even his blurred vision does nothing to muddle the meaning.

Shun fakes a smile, but the guilt is paralyzing. He shouldn’t have been staring. She deserves better than that.

She deserves better than him.

He clenches his teeth, fixes his gaze on one of the crystal clear pools. _What are you doing, Kenzaki?_

 

* * *

  

The corridors are empty, and Lana is quiet.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Rey had said. _“I didn’t know how to tell you.”_

Shun might hate her for keeping such a secret if he wasn’t keeping a hundred of his own—glass houses, and all that—but Lana stormed out of the rec room, so he followed her. _It’s not safe to be alone_ , he reasoned. She didn’t send him away.

They’ve wandered the entire length of Ring One twice now, and he’s mentally preparing himself for a third lap when Lana instead heads for their reclaimed block of crew quarters. Walk’s over, apparently. It seems to have cleared her head, but it’s had the opposite effect on him. All that time to think didn’t do him any favors.

Lana strides toward her room, reaches for the door release—

“Wait.” The word falls out before Shun can catch it.

His voice seems to startle her, but she doesn’t face him. “What’s wrong?”

_Everything. Nothing. I don’t know. Don’t leave me._

She turns, and there’s something oddly feral writhing in her grey-blue eyes. “Shun.”

“I…” _I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t hate myself as much when you’re around._

She takes a step closer, and there’s a familiar rattle as she adjusts her grip on her gun, keeps it pointed at the floor. “Shun?”

The words won’t come; or maybe it’s just that he won’t let them, jaw screwed tight, throat closed off. 

Lana's silent. She doesn't reach for him.

Honesty’s never been one of his virtues, but he owes her an explanation. “I’ve… never been on a plane,” he offers, words drawn and measured. It’s not what he meant to say, but it’s _something_ ; a scrap of him that’s true.

Lana goes still, tilts her head, stares at him like he’s a thousand-piece puzzle that’s just been spilled all over the floor. (Takeshi used to be so good at puzzles; as persistent and patient with cardboard cutouts as he was with people. He must've gotten that from their mother.)

Shun holds his breath, wills Lana to understand. This night, this game—it’s the first time he’s felt _human_ in ages. And he’s not ready to let that go, sleep it off and wake to discover he’s the same worthless fuckup he’s always been.

Lana finally catches on—and immediately stares at the nearest bulkhead. “We’re out of alcohol,” she mutters. Avoid his eyes.

He swallows, forces another confession through clenched teeth. “I’ve never attended university.” Not that he didn’t try, but Oyaji’s wishes overruled his own. _God_ , Takeshi was _so upset_ with him for dropping out before the first day of classes, called him a disappointment and a coward _._ (It still stings, thinking about that fight, about how right Takeshi was—about everything.)

Lana sighs. She’s tired; they’re both tired. “It’s late. We should—”

“I’ve never owned a pet.” Takeshi did. Takeshi still would if it weren’t for him.

“Shun…”

 _Shun._ He hasn’t been that man in years—Oyaji made sure of it, made sure there was only room in the world for _Kenzaki_. Would Lana even look at him if she knew the unfiltered truth of it all? Knew who he was before he boarded this ship? Knew how many lives he's claimed? Knew that he betrayed his only family—and for what? For _what_?

Shun grits his teeth, keeps his breathing steady. “I’ve… never made amends for all the pain I’ve caused.”

A tremor starts in the tips of Lana’s fingers, and her shoulders go stiff.

He should back off, let this go, call it a night—but something in him won’t relent. “I’ve never been proud of the choices I’ve made.” Shun cheats a step closer, releases a slow breath. Meets her gaze. “But I don’t regret signing up for the Thea Project. Even now. Even with all that’s happened.”

Lana’s shaking, and he hates himself for it. He’d give anything for her to not be afraid of him.

“Lana, I’ve never cared…” Shun swallows, tries again. If he doesn’t get this out now, he probably never will. “Lana, I—”

“Goodnight, Shun.” The words are a blur, and she’s inside her quarters before he can so much as blink.

Shadows lunge in to take her place, and Shun's knees bow. He bumps into the railing, clings to it to keep himself upright. He never should’ve said anything. What good’s a blank slate if you spill the same blood on it all over again?

A door eventually slides open, and Shun doesn’t know how much time has passed. Henri steps into the hallway, slowly walks closer. “Everything… okay?”

“I just…” Shun works his jaw, rolls his shoulders, forces the fractured pieces of himself back together the same way he has a hundred times before. “I need a shower.”

**Author's Note:**

> an emotionally constipated, tragic, guilt-ridden anti-hero: *exists*  
> me, already filing adoption papers: **M I N E**
> 
> anyway, come yell at me on [tumblr](http://yalenayardeen.tumblr.com) about these two star-crossed idiots.


End file.
